


like a fool

by sarahyyy



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 05:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2569649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahyyy/pseuds/sarahyyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur doesn’t sleep with married men.</p><p>Arthur’s never even <i>wanted</i> to sleep with married men. </p><p>But just like with everything else, Eames fucking messes up his statistics.</p><p>(Or, the one where Eames gets married.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	like a fool

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY BETH. <33333

It starts with Yusuf congratulating Eames on getting married. 

“When you said you were going to Amsterdam, this was not what I was expecting,” Yusuf says, but he’s smiling and he doesn’t look too bothered about it. 

_Nobody_ looks too bothered about it. Nobody even looks _surprised_. Arthur has to surreptitiously check his reflection in the mirror to make sure that he isn’t reacting too obviously to the news.

“Church wedding?” Ariadne asks from beside Arthur. 

“We just signed papers,” Eames tells her, shrugging, completely serene about the whole thing. “We’re both kind of wanted by Interpol. Figured speed was of essence.” 

Eames left for _a week_. One week and he comes back _married_. Arthur hadn’t even known he was seeing someone. 

“When we finally decide to throw a belated wedding brunch, we’ll invite you,” Eames says with a wink. “But enough about me. Arthur looks like he’s going to burst a vessel if we keep wasting his time.” He turns to Arthur and flashes him a grin. “Brief us on the job then, darling.”

 _What the fuck_ , Arthur doesn’t say. 

He flips open the dossier he has on the mark, takes a deep, calming breath, and talks about the job.

—

He pulls official records and marriage registries, and almost has to fling his laptop out of a window. He calls his contacts in Amsterdam, and actually does end up tossing his phone out the window. He almost buys a fucking flight to Amsterdam just to double check, but manages to stop himself because that’s going a little too far, that’s admitting that he’s maybe a little too invested in Eames’ marital status, and that’s _not okay_ because-

Because Eames is _married_. 

Eames with his ridiculous accent and his even more ridiculous lips and his all-around ridiculous _personality_ is _married_.

—

Arthur doesn’t sleep with married men.

Arthur’s never even _wanted_ to sleep with married men. 

But just like with everything else, Eames fucking messes up his statistics.

—

“So,” Arthur says, “Laffont.”

He sounds calm and unaffected. He’s glad he sounds calm and unaffected. Because the other alternative to sounding calm and unaffected would be to grip Eames by the shoulders and _shake him_ until everything makes sense again, and Arthur is not going to do that.

“Ah, I knew this was coming,” Eames says, and Arthur startles, because _no, he didn’t_. “Don’t worry, I know what you want to say.”

Arthur stares at him. He can’t possibly know. Arthur has been really subtle about his crush on Eames. He’s kept it down for months —fuck, okay, _years_ now— and no-one knows about it. 

_Eames can’t possibly know._

“You don’t have to look so startled, darling,” Eames says. “I do, at times, know what to and what not to do.”

Arthur blinks.

Eames makes a face at him. “Would you like to hear me say it anyway, love?” he asks, and then sighs. “Of course you would. I did not let any confidential information relating to any of our jobs or anyone on the team while I was in Amsterdam. There. Happy?” He sighs again and leans back in his chair, crossing his (ridiculous) arms over his (ridiculous) chest. “We’ve been working together for ages now. One would think that there’d be a certain level of trust between us by this point.” 

“I do trust you,” Arthur blurts out, before he can think the better of it. 

Eames smiles, and he looks _fond_ , and Arthur wants to punch him in the face for making Arthur like him. 

“I know you do, Arthur,” he tells Arthur. “You wouldn’t have me sticking around if you didn’t.”

“It could be that you’re just a really good forger,” Arthur says.

“It could be,” Eames agrees easily, “but it’s not.” 

Arthur allows himself to smile at that. “But it’s not,” he confirms, rather unnecessarily, but it’s worth it to see the way Eames beams up at him. 

“Was that all you needed?” Eames asks.

Arthur swallows the _why didn’t you tell me about Laffont?_ he’d came to ask. It’s none of his business, really, why Eames kept his relationship a secret. Arthur is just his colleague, maybe loosely a friend at best, and he doesn’t have any grounds to ask.

He doesn’t want to make things weird between them. Arthur has a crush on Eames, who is married, but Arthur can deal with it on his own, has dealt with his crush on his own for a really long time now. He’s good at doing things on his own. He’ll deal.

He’ll take this loosely-defined friendship over nothing at all.

—

“He’s on the phone with Philippa and James,” Ariadne says before Arthur can ask where Cobb is. “And Eames is on the phone with Laffont. He said to start without him.”

Arthur frowns. “It’s a _team_ meeting.”

Ariadne shrugs. “He said he stole the files off your table this morning and read them over breakfast,” she tells him. “He’ll be fine. It sounded like he really urgently needed to talk to Laffont.”

“I’ll bet he did,” Arthur mutters, and then feels bad. He’s supposed to be getting over it, not holding a grudge against Eames for wanting to talk to his _husband_. Fuck. Arthur should probably offer to give him some time off for a honeymoon. “Do you think he wants some time off?” he asks Ariadne.

Ariadne stares at him. “What for?”

“Laffont,” Arthur says. “I mean, he did have to get back from Amsterdam in a rush because we had to start this job. The client would probably not mind if we push the job for a week or two. It would be nice to at least offer, right? They are newlyweds, after all.” His voice comes out a little more bitter than he would like it to be, and he hopes Ariadne doesn’t catch that. 

Ariadne blinks. “What.”

“What?” Arthur asks, defensive.

Ariadne’s eyes go wide. “Oh, _Arthur_.”

“What?” Arthur asks again.

“Yusuf owes me so much money,” she tells him, stretching out to reach her phone instead of answering his question. “So much money,” she repeats, fervent. “ _Thank you_.” 

—

He’s going over some of the finer details of the plan with Cobb after the briefing when he hears Yusuf cackle from the next room. 

It goes on for quite a bit. Arthur would be impressed by Yusuf’s stamina, except Yusuf is laughing _at him_. He doesn’t know why, but he’s going to figure out eventually. 

Finding things out is his speciality, after all. 

—

Someone —Laffont, probably; Arthur would check Eames’ phone records to confirm, but that just seems invasive— keeps texting Eames, and Arthur understands that they’re newlyweds, that they’re supposed to want to talk to each other all the time, and that he has no reason to feel upset about it, but he’s _jealous_. There’s really no other word for it. 

He misses the way Eames’ eyes are always on him when he speak, because Eames’ gaze keeps straying back to his phone now, waiting for a reply to his text. He misses the way Eames would come up with snarky quips, misses the way Eames always hangs around him when he doesn’t have anything pressing to do, misses the way Eames perches on his desk and just watches him work sometimes. 

“Oh, Arthur,” Ariadne says a lot, and Arthur is beginning to guess that she maybe pities him for wanting a married man. 

—

“Arthur, love, do you have a minute?” Eames asks just as everyone else is clearing out of the office space they’ve rented for the job. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah, sure,” Arthur says absently, packing up his files. “What is it?”

Eames stays quiet until after Cobb walks out of the office. “It’s about Laffont,” he says softly. 

Arthur swallows, and then steels himself. “Do you need time off the job?” he asks brusquely. Professionalism is the key. As long as he keeps things strictly professional, he won’t end up making a fool out of himself. “I can maybe give you five days.”

“It’s not that,” Eames says. “It’s- You’ve been acting strange recently. I just wanted to make sure that you know.”

Arthur frowns. “Know what?”

“The Amsterdam thing,” Eames starts, “that’s never going to happen again. I’m not going to do that ever again. I know where I belong. Okay?”

Arthur’s chest tightens painfully as he deciphers the meaning behind Eames’ words. 

Eames is not going to get married ever again. It’s a forever sort of thing with Laffont. 

“Okay,” he forces himself to say. He would try for a smile, would try to say _that’s great, congratulations_ , but he knows his limits.

Eames frowns. “No, that’s not your _okay_ face,” he decides. “Something is wrong. Talk to me, Arthur. Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.”

Arthur looks away from him, turns back to his desk and resumes packing up. “Nothing is wrong, Eames.”

Eames reaches out to catch Arthur’s arm in his just as Arthur is making a move to leave. “Something _clearly_ is,” he says hotly. “What are you upset about, Arthur?”

“What do you _think_ I’m upset about, Eames?” Arthur snaps, and then shrugs Eames’ hand off his. “ _Laffont_. I am upset about Laffont.” 

“I told you, it’s a one time thing,” Eames says. “He called me to cash in a favour. I couldn’t have said no.”

Arthur snorts. “So you _married him_ because you owed him a favour?”

Eames gapes at him. “No,” he says. “I took a job in Amsterdam because I owed him a favour. He wanted me there for at least a month for a long con, but you had a job lined up, so I improvised. The marriage helped to sell our cover.”

Arthur blinks at Eames. “I pulled up the registry records-”

“Yes, the whole thing was real,” Eames says. “What did you think I’ve been so busy doing the past few days? I had to annul my marriage to Laffont.” 

“I thought-” Arthur starts, and then stops himself. “I-”

“You thought I actually married Laffont,” Eames says. “Arthur, darling, I couldn’t have. Well, firstly, he’s kind of a git.”

“He is,” Arthur says, and Eames’ lips tip up in a smile. 

“And more importantly,” Eames continues as he steps in closer and takes Arthur’s hands in his, “my heart kind of already belongs to someone else.”

Arthur draws in a sharp breath. “Is that so?”

“You must know, darling,” Eames says. “You _must_. Everyone knows. _Cobb_ knows. Well, actually, scratch that, love, I’m not so sure about that. It’s _Cobb_ , and he’s not really the most observant per-”

Arthur stops him mid-speech with a finger to his lips. 

“Arthur,” Eames breathes, and purses his lips, presses a kiss to Arthur’s finger.

“The annulment,” Arthur says, mouth suddenly very dry. “Has that been finalised?” 

“I have to go back to Amsterdam to sign some papers,” Eames tells him. “I was going to go after the job. But I can go now, if you want me to. I can be on a plane tonight and back by lunch-”

Arthur doesn’t let him finish, just curls his fingers over the nape of Eames’ neck, and tugs him in close for a kiss. 

—

Arthur doesn’t sleep with married men, has never even wanted to, but he’ll happily let Eames mess up his statistics.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [here on Tumblr](http://sarah-yyy.tumblr.com), come say hi!


End file.
